“And will he?” Eli said.
No, the Weaver whispered. That promise was made thousands of years ago. Our father sacrificed everything to lock the demons outside, away from his creation. He thought, as we all did, that the demons would die off if we deprived them of food. Starve them off, that was our plan, but it did not work. The demons do not die. I think they cannot. All our efforts have managed is to starve them to madness. He raised his head, staring up through the mountain and, Eli wagered, through the sky beyond, glaring with pure hatred at the things waiting on the other side.
There is no food left for them save what lives in this sphere, he said. This last crumb of the world. They no longer think of anything save eating, but they shall get their meal soon enough. Even if I were able to get to the Between right now and resume my weaving, without the Hunter’s aid I could only hold the shell together for a day, maybe less. However long I held, though, the eventual end would be the same. The shell will weaken and crack and the demons will pour in to devour all that remains of the world.
The Power’s words hung in the air like sad music, low and tremulous, and the defeat in them made Eli clench his jaw in fury. “So you’re telling me we’re as good as dead?” he shouted. “I don’t believe it! How did the Shepherdess even kill the Hunter, anyway? I thought you Powers were supposed to be equal.”
We are, the Weaver said. I don’t know how she did it. We all heard his scream, so the Hunter must have been inside the shell when he died. Nothing inside the shell should be able to kill a Power, even another Power. But the how changes nothing. The Hunter is still dead.
“On the contrary,” Eli said. “The how matters a great deal.” He tore his eyes off the Weaver and began to pace. “When the Creator first closed the shell, one demon snuck in, didn’t it? That’s why we have the Dead Mountain.”
The Weaver nodded. We contained it as best we could, but—
“I know the rest,” Eli said, walking faster. He knew he was being rude, but if there really was only an hour left until the shell began to crack, he didn’t have time to be nice. “Josef?”
From his spot beside Nico’s box, the swordsman glanced up. “If you’re going to ask me something, you should know I’ve heard only about half of the nonsense conversation you’ve been having.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Eli said. “Tell me, when the Lord of Storms took Nico’s seed, did you see it?”
Josef nodded. “It was long and black, about the length of my short sword’s blade. Sharp, too.” His eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know?”
Eli ignored the question and turned back to the Weaver. “You said nothing in creation could kill a Power. But demons aren’t creation; that was the whole point of your story. The seed inside Nico is part of the demon under the Dead Mountain. Tell me, would a piece of a demon this long be enough to kill the Hunter if he didn’t see it coming?” He spaced his hands at the size Josef had said and held them out to the Weaver.
The old man’s white eyes went very wide, and he began to tremble. It would, he whispered. Oh, Benehime. Oh, sister, how could you?
Eli shook his head. “You said earlier that it was our good luck Benehime decided to do all this when the Hunter was coming, but I don’t think it was our luck at all. It was hers, her plan.” Eli dropped his hands and began to pace faster than ever. “You’ve known Benehime a long time, but I think I know her better than you do these days. Your sister’s a schemer. That’s why we got along so well at the beginning, I think. She doesn’t do anything without an end in mind.”
Eli took a deep breath. This next bit was going to be hard. Not talking about his tangled relationship with Benehime was deeply ingrained, but what went for the Weaver went for him as well. The time for careful stepping was over. It was now or never. Eli winced. He’d never used that phrase quite so literally.
“Ever since I found out what Nico was, I’ve been struggling with the question of why,” Eli said. “Why did Benehime let her stay with us? With me? I learned early that the Shepherdess did not take unmeasured risks, and Nico was a liability from the moment Josef found her. So why did Benehime tolerate it? Why did she forbid the Lord of Storms from taking down a demon who was such an obvious threat? She always said it was because of me, but Nico and I have been separated several times since we started working together. There were ample opportunities for the League to take her down with no threat to me. Yet when the Lord of Storms tried to do just that, he was punished severely. So, why? Why did the Lady leave her alone until just now?”
“Because you’re no longer the favorite,” Slorn said.
“I don’t think that’s it,” Eli said. “For once, I don’t think this had anything to do with me.” He turned and stared at the bone metal box. “I was a handy excuse, a cover. She knew Nico was strong. Strong enough to pull herself back from the brink over and over, strong enough to grow the weapon she needed. All she needed was time.”
The room was silent. Everyone, even the Weaver, was gaping at him openly.
You’re saying she grew the demonseed for the purpose of killing her brother? the Weaver whispered. That she defended the seed from her own guards?
“I’m actually beginning to wonder if it’s just coincidence Josef happened to be on the mountain when Nico fell,” Eli said. “We can’t know for sure how far her plans went, but I know Benehime well enough to guess that she’s probably been working on this for years, setting up the pieces in preparation for this day. This was a premeditated murder. She’s wanted out of her job as Shepherdess for a long time, but she knew she could never run away while her brothers were both alive. So she created the one set of circumstances that allowed her to circumvent the Creator’s will. She grew a demon and killed the Hunter with its seed, and then she sealed the Between to prevent you from interfering while she escapes into her paradise and leaves the rest of us to be demon food.” The plan was so selfish, so like her, that Eli could almost hear Benehime’s voice explaining it along with him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she were already gone.”
No, the Weaver whispered. Even through the seal, I can feel her presence. She’s still here, but why? What more can she be waiting for?
“Her paradise isn’t complete,” Slorn said, looking up at the stone ceiling. “She doesn’t have Durain yet.”
“No,” the mountain rumbled. “Her pull on me vanished when the Hunter died. If she is waiting, it’s not for me, but I can guess whom she would hold back for.”
Eli sucked in a breath, eyes squeezing closed. Of course. How could he ever think she’d actually drop his leash?
“She won’t give you up until the very end,” the Shaper Mountain said. “You are the tie that will hold her here until the shell shatters, and as such you may well be the only hope we have of reclaiming the Hunter’s seed.”
Eli blinked, startled out of his self-pity. “Seed?”
The piece of the Creator inside us, the Weaver said.
“You mean like a demonseed?” Eli said.
I told you, they are our shadows, the Weaver said testily. But where their seeds devour, ours nurture and sustain us. My brother is dead, but the core of the Creator that gave him life can never be destroyed. That is how Benehime is able to hold a part of the Hunter’s power even when the Hunter is no more. She has his seed.
Eli licked his lips. “And could that seed be used to create a new Hunter?”
The Weaver considered. It’s never been tried before, but I don’t see why not. Provided the correct soul was found.
Eli grinned and clapped his hands together, making everyone jump. “All right,” he said. “I think I’ve got a plan.”
“I’ve learned to fear those words from you,” Slorn grumbled.
Eli shrugged. “You want to stand around here and wait to die?”
Slorn shook his head and motioned for Eli to continue.
Eli took the cue with a flourish and gathered everyone around, including Josef and the Heart of War. Especially them. Those two were vital to his plan, but while Eli was reasonably sure the Heart would go along, Josef was another story. He made a mental note to play up the heroic warrior parts and straightened up to speak. But just as he opened his mouth to expound what he was sure would go down in history as the idea that saved the world (or the idea that doomed the world, but no one would be around to call him on it if that was the case), a white line flashed into existence right in front of his face.
Miranda forced herself off the floor of the Rector’s office. The heartbreaking loss was still pounding in her brain, but she couldn’t afford to stay down any longer. Stumbling like a drunk, she made her way to the large windows behind Master Bana—Her desk and pressed her face to the thick glass. She already knew what she would
